


Birdcage

by charlesdk



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bisexual Sam Wilson, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern Royalty, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Prince Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14001444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/pseuds/charlesdk
Summary: Prince Sam is a handsome man. Steve knew this already, of course. He has seen pictures, has seen him on the news, has seen him everywhere. But a screen doesn't do him justice, not really. Sam is much more handsome in person, Steve would even call him beautiful.The smile on Sam's lips is warm and inviting when their eyes lock, and he heads right for him. Steve returns the smile, a little bashfully, and holds out a hand in greeting.“Prince Sam,” he says. “I've heard a lot about you.”OR; While working together on a charity, Sam and Steve grow close. It doesn't take long before Steve realizes just how close they're getting nor does it take long before he realizes he’s falling for Sam.





	Birdcage

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this picture](https://78.media.tumblr.com/d607d4728dd3d4c05b49fe7eb0b66ce1/tumblr_oiunwfzF1r1vl8i3yo2_1280.jpg) of Anthony Mackie and then this fic happened.
> 
> Takes place after the Avengers and before the events of TWS.

The first thought that passes through Steve's head as he walks in through the opened doors is that this place is too big. The foyer alone is at least three times bigger than the apartment he grew up in, back in the day. In all fairness, the apartment he lives in now is much bigger than his apartment then too but that's the entire apartment, not just the foyer.

He lets his eyes wander as he's led further into the mansion, taking in his surroundings and tuning out the voices that he wasn't really listening to anyway, even though he probably should. This place is something straight out of a movie or a fairy tale; big and spacious and luxurious. It's surreal to be in, for him.

Steve grew up in the middle of the Depression, poor and with a single mother who worked too hard too much to take care of him with his poor health and living in a building where every resident had to share a shitty bathroom and the heating never worked.

Being in a place like this – a place that is so big that the voices talking ahead of him and the sounds of their shoes hitting the sparkling clean floors echo off the walls – is surreal and, to be honest, a bit overwhelming. It almost annoys him that such a place exists.

This place is probably older than he is which, with the amount of changes he's had to deal with over the past year, should be a relief. It should be, but it isn't. He doesn't belong in a place like this.

Captain America, however, probably does.

An elbow nudges him in the side a little harder than necessary and Steve takes his eyes off the painting hung up in a gold frame on the wall they're walking by, an old couple looking back at him with their chins raised and shoulders back in a pose that only belongs to powerful people.

Hill– _Maria_ is giving him a sideways glance, one of her brows quirked in a pointed way. The look in her eyes is telling him something and she doesn't need to open her mouth for him to hear her voice clearly tell him _pay attention_.

Steve does, offering the bodyguard who introduced himself as Gerald earlier a smile when he looks at them over his shoulder.

Gerald takes them to a spacious room with couches that look comfortable to sit in, throw pillows decoratively lined up along the arms and the backs. The windows are large, the curtains pulled away and secured to the side to let the daylight swim into the room and the garden outside come into view.

There's an unlit fireplace in the room too, as well as a variety of decorative things that Steve doesn't pay much attention to. Instead, he zeroes in on the snacks on a table that Gerald gestures to once they're inside, silently offering it to them.

“Prince Sam will be with you in a minute,” Gerald say, then, with a polite smile, he turns and leaves them alone.

Steve waits a minute. He stays in place and looks from the pattern in the fire screen to the books sitting neatly on the shelves in the bookcases that are lined up along one of the walls, while Maria walks over and sits down on one of the couches with a quiet sigh.

He waits until he can no longer hear Gerald's echoing footsteps from down the hall, then he takes a few long steps over to the snacks and grabs two or three or five of the cookies, tossing one into his mouth. His empty stomach appreciates it, hungry even though he ate before they left the Triskelion only a couple hours ago.

As he bites down on a second cookie, Steve turns and pauses when he finds Maria looking at him. Her brows are raised high on her forehead, a look on her face that is a mixture of judgmental and questioning, maybe a little amused too.

“What?” he asks and lowers the cookie from his lips.

“You wasted no time going for that, huh?” Maria says, the corner of her lips twitching and her expression settling on amused.

“I waited a minute,” Steve argues, although that minute might have been closer to twenty seconds.

Maria hums, her tone full of judgment but the glint in her eyes is one of pure amusement.

Steve pauses, then he puts the small stack of cookies down on the table and walks over to sit down on the couch facing Maria. She looks back at him, her face shifting back into the professional expression that he knows so well. He meets her gaze with slight resignation.

“Do I really need to be here?” he asks after a moment.

“Considering you're part of the deal,” Maria says, “yes.”

Steve gives her a flat look and says, “Well, no one really bothered discussing it with me when I was put to do all those public service announcement videos for the high schoolers. I don't see why this would be any different.”

“This _is_ different,” Maria says. “For one, this isn't gonna be just reading off a teleprompter. Charity is a lot more complicated than that. It requires a lot more involvement, not just your face and voice, although that is important too.”

“So that means I can actually say what I mean for once, not just what I'm told to?” Steve asks.

“Don't ask me,” Maria says with a shrug. “That's something you'll have to ask Fury or Pepper about. I'm just here to escort you and keep you out of trouble.”

“A babysitter,” Steve says dryly.

Maria smiles at him and says, “Pretty much.”

“Great,” Steve sighs and leans back on the couch. “Okay, what else?”

“For another,” Maria says. “Prince Sam asked for your personal involvement. Apparently he wasn't satisfied with dealing with only the higher ups and using your face and name for attention.”

“I doubt that the _prince_ would need my name for attention, anyway.”

“Maybe not. But anyway, he wants you to get involved and Pepper thinks it'll be great publicity, so don't complain, behave, and hear him out.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Steve says. It comes out drier than he intends it to.

Silence falls over them. It's interrupted when approaching footsteps sound from down the hall a couple of minutes later. Maria is on her feet in an instant, fixing her shirt, squaring her shoulders, and brushing her bangs further to the side.

Steve is slower to get to his feet, so slow that he doesn't even bother before the footsteps are actually in the room. He straightens his jacket briefly, then he turns and comes face to face with the royal prince himself.

Prince Sam is a handsome man. Steve knew this already, of course. He has seen pictures, has seen him on the news, has seen him everywhere. But a screen doesn't do him justice, not really. Sam is much more handsome in person, Steve would even call him beautiful.

The smile on Sam's lips is warm and inviting when their eyes lock, and he heads right for him. Steve returns the smile, a little bashfully, and holds out a hand in greeting.

“Prince Sam,” he says. “I've heard a lot about you.”

It's a bit of a lie but that's what he's supposed to say, right? It's nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you, it's an honor, your highness; all that stuff that Steve has been told time and time again that he is supposed to say when meeting someone important, as if he doesn't know how to be polite.

 _Play nice_ , Pepper had told him, like playing nice is a foreign concept for him. He was a dancing monkey who had to kiss babies and smile for cameras with blinding flashes for months during the war, he knows how this works. He can handle being a dancing monkey in the future, too.

That doesn't mean he likes it any more, though. He still despises that he has to play pretend, sometimes, and talk and talk and _talk_. Too much talk, not enough action.

“Likewise, Captain,” Sam says and gives his hand a firm shake.

“Please,” Steve says. “Call me Steve.”

“Well, then, call me Sam. No prince, just Sam. Please.”

With a smile, Steve nods and lets go of Sam's hand. “Noted,” he says.

Sam turns to Maria after a second, his eyes lingering on Steve for a split second too long. Steve might not have noticed if it wasn't for the fact that he does the exact same thing, only for a second or two longer.

Sam and Maria shake hands and say their hellos, then all three of them move over to the couches. Steve sits himself down where he was before Sam arrived and doesn't question it when Maria sits down next to him, Sam taking a seat on the couch opposite them.

“Thank you both for coming,” Sam says once they're seated and comfortable. “I know you're both busy, saving the world and all, so I appreciate that you took the time to talk about this and hopefully be convinced to work together with me.”

“Of course,” Steve says with a nod. “Always happy to help.”

Maria sends him a sideways glance but says nothing, although he knows she knows he's full of shit.

It's not that he isn't happy to help. He is, honestly. He has just always been more of a doing rather than talking kind of guy and being forced to get involved with things he barely knows anything about is less than ideal.

He hasn't made a single decision for himself since he was defrosted, and while people keep telling him he's free to do whatever, it doesn't feel like it. Sometimes, it feels like he's only Captain America the Robot™ being put to do whatever he's told to do.

“Tell us about your charity,” Steve continues. “All I was told was that it's for veterans which is why you wanted Captain America to be the face of it.”

“For starters,” Sam says, “I didn't ask for you because I wanted you to be the face of the charity. I asked for you because I wanted to work with you on it. A collaboration, if you will.”

“So, you want me to actually be involved with the whole process, not just the promotion.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Sam says, brows furrowing. “I'm pretty sure I already told ms. Potts about that.”

“You did,” Maria says and shoots Steve a look. “I think he's just trying to figure out whether we lied to him or not.”

Steve shrugs and asks, “Can you blame me?”

“No, but you were also told to behave. Please do that so neither of us get in trouble.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Steve says, then shoots Sam a small, apologetic smile. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, man,” Sam says and returns the smile kindly. “This is much better than the other boring meetings I've had all week, so thanks for that. It's nice to know Captain America is a bit of a shit.”

Steve's brows jump up and his smile turns into something closer to a grin.

“I wasn't aware the prince was allowed to swear,” he says.

“You get to be a shit, I get to swear,” Sam says, lifting his shoulders. “Those 're the rules.”

“Good to know,” Steve says. “Does that mean I get to swear, too?”

“No,” Maria says.

“Yes,” Sam says at the same time.

Steve looks between the two, watches as they exchange a look. Sam raises a brow and Maria leans back on the couch with a sigh, throwing her hands up resignedly.

“What the hell,” she says. “The parents aren't here, might as well.”

Steve pats her knee and says, “Tell me more about this charity, Sam.”

“Okay,” Sam says and clasps his hands together between his spread knees. “As you already know, the charity is meant for veterans, specifically veterans who come home wrong, but I don't want it to be just raising a lot of money and putting it out there for whoever. I want it to actually help the vets get back on their feet in whatever way they need.”

“You want it to be more personal,” Steve says.

“I do,” Sam says with a nod. “I want them to know that we care about them as individuals. But I also have other obligations as a prince and this is my own project, not my family's, which is why I'm asking you for help.”

“And why me?”

“Because you're Captain America, for one,” Sam says. “You know what it's like, being to war and coming back to a home you don't recognize, like so many of them do. Your version is a little more extreme, sure, but it's a shared life experience.”

Steve smiles a little, then asks, “And for another?”

“Because you're Steve Rogers.”

Steve blinks, smile frozen on his lips.

“Every kid in the country has read about you,” Sam says. “I'm no exception. I read about the brave hero who stood up for the little guys even when he was one and who never gave up and kept fighting for the good even when he woke up seventy years into the future and had to get used to that. I think people like this really need someone like Steve Rogers to show them hope.”

Steve stares at him.

“Besides,” Sam continues, a smile on his lips. “I've always wanted to meet Captain America.”

“Ah,” Steve says and lets out a breathy chuckle. “So you asked for me because of that. I knew you'd have to have some sort of ulterior motive.”

“Oh, no no no,” Sam says and shakes his head. “I asked for you because there's no one else I want to work with on this. Getting to meet you is just a nice bonus.”

“Okay, sure,” Steve says and gives him an unconvinced look.

Maria jabs him in the side with her elbow, hard.

Steve winces, then clears his throat and flushes when he remembers that he's supposed to behave.

“Well, Sam,” he says and smiles. “I'd love to work with you.”

“Great,” Sam says, smiling as he stands. “Then I will contact you soon and we'll set up a time to talk everything over. Alone, this time. No one to breathe down our necks for not being the super polite people we're supposed to be.”

Maria rolls her eyes, while Steve grins and stands to shake hands with Sam.

“I'll be looking forward to it,” he says.

“Me too,” Sam says.

They shake hands for a mere second too long before Steve realizes and lets go, cheeks a little warm. Sam doesn't seem to notice. If he does, he doesn't say anything. He just smiles, says his goodbyes, and walks back out a second before Gerald comes walking in.

Steve doesn't take his eyes off of Sam, not until Sam looks over his shoulder and meets his eye with a smile before disappearing into a room further down the hall. Only then does Steve look away and meets Gerald's gaze, flushed.

Gerald smiles at him and asks, “Do you wanna take some of the snacks home with you?”

“Gerald,” Steve says seriously. “I would love nothing more.”

Maria snorts but she reaches over and steals some of the cookies on the ride back to the Triskelion despite declining Gerald's offer. Steve says nothing and shares with her, although he does give her a look that is tiptoeing the line of smug.

 

♕ ♕ ♕

 

Steve drums his fingers against the surface of the counter, eyes firmly glued to the entrance of the building. SHIELD agents are walking by and around him, a few nodding in greeting, one that he returns without looking. He's been standing here, waiting and driving the receptionist whose counter he keeps drumming on crazy, for an eternity.

That's what it feels like, at least. Realistically, he has probably only been waiting five minutes.

Steve is nervous, is the thing. He doesn't even really know why but when he sees Sam come walking through security with four bodyguards trailing after him, he thinks maybe he can figure that one out pretty quick and easy.

Sam is handsome, that has already been established. But Sam is also beautiful, breathtakingly so. The mere sight of him coming toward him in the distance makes Steve's heart do funny things in his chest, stuttering and somersaulting until a warm feeling appears and settles in his stomach.

After meeting the guy last week, Steve started to read up on him. He's intrigued, interested. Not because Sam is a prince, no. Steve has never cared much for royalty and meeting the prince himself in person hasn't changed that. He's not intrigued by Sam's status, he's intrigued by Sam himself.

The more Steve read about him, the more he realized what kind of man Sam is and that has made Steve interested in a way that might end up becoming unprofessional and, therefore, a problem.

Especially because he can't deny how attracted to this guy he is.

A guy with a smile this warm and beautiful, who wouldn't be?

“Your highness,” Steve greets him and holds out his hand when Sam stops in front of him.

Sam takes his hand, gives him a smile, and says, “I'm pretty sure I told you to call me Sam, Cap.”

“You did,” Steve says and lets go of Sam's hand before he ends up holding it for too long. “But I like to be respectful, on occasion.”

“Only on occasion, huh?”

“Well, to the people who deserve respect.”

“And I appreciate being one of those people but, respectfully, call me Sam. If we're gonna work together, we're gonna have to be friends and my friends do not call me your highness or anything like that. At least not without a load of sarcasm behind it.”

Steve smiles at him. “Okay, I'll stick with Sam,” he says.

“Good,” Sam says, then looks up and around. “This is a big place.”

Steve bites back a snarky remark and says, “We're a big organization.”

“That you are,” Sam says and looks back at him. “Does a big organization like this have somewhere private where we can talk business?”

“Absolutely,” Steve says, turning and gesturing toward the elevators. “Follow me. Your highness.”

Sam gives him a look, his eyes narrowed, then he smiles at him and rolls his eyes.

If Steve didn't know better, he'd say the smile is fond.

They walk side by side toward the elevator, the bodyguards trailing after them a couple of feet behind. Steve barely notices them but that's more because he's focused on how Sam's shoulder nearly brushes his own as they walk, and also because he keeps his eyes wandering around.

Before they reach the elevator, Steve reaches out and nudges to a sign until it hangs crookedly on the wall. He barely thinks before he does it, his hand moving on its own. It's a subtle change but it's there.

“What was that about?” Sam asks.

“Hm?” Steve hums questioningly.

“The,” Sam makes a hand movement, nudging to an imaginary sign, “thing.”

“Oh,” Steve says, smiling a little sheepishly. “Natasha and I, ah. Black Widow?”

“I know her, yeah,” Sam says. “Well, I know _of_ her.”

“Right,” Steve says. “We have a game. It's, ah. We're both here a lot and it can get pretty boring, so we have a game of spot the difference to keep us entertained whenever we come here. Good observation skills training, too.”

“That's cute,” Sam says and smiles. “Captain America and Black Widow are dorks. Who would've thought?”

Steve shrugs and says, “We gotta keep ourselves entertained somehow.”

“True. So, who's winning?”

“She is,” Steve says. “But only by one.”

They step into the elevator and ride it up to the ninth floor where Steve leads them into an empty conference room at the end of the hallways. He steps in and holds the door open for Sam who steps in after him, holding up his hand in a silent _stay_ to his bodyguards.

It's eerily similar to someone telling their dogs to stay put. Steve has to bite back a laugh at the imagery that thought gives him.

Once inside, Steve closes the door. He expects to feel nervous about being alone with Sam, especially with this newfound information about how easily he could give into this thing resembling a crush, but he doesn't. At least not in the way he expected to.

The nerves that are fluttering around in his stomach aren't out of anxiety, it's more out of excitement. He doesn't feel like he has to put up a front with Sam because Sam made it abundantly clear that he wants to work with Steve and not Captain America the last time they met.

Steve is nervous because he wants Sam to like him. He tells himself that he wants him to like him in a professional sense but he knows that's a lie before the thought even finishes in his head.

While Sam sits down by the table, Steve heads over to the small fridge in the corner of the room. There isn't much in there, just a few rows of bottled water and... well, that's about it. He grabs two of them, then heads over to the table.

“I'd offer you something else,” he says as he hands a bottle to Sam, “but unfortunately we're not that fancy.”

Sam grabs the bottle, then pauses. He looks at him, brows slowly rising and the corners of his lips twisting into a smile while his eyes light up in amusement. His smile widens until the gap between his front teeth shows, and Steve is suddenly grateful that he sits down in that moment because wow.

“Oh, so that's how it is?” Sam asks.

Steve smiles and says, “That's how it is.”

“Okay,” Sam says with a laugh. “Anytime you wanna stop being a smartass, just let me know.”

Steve chuckles, a smile settling on his lips when Sam does the same. He leans back in his seat and twists off the cap on his bottle, then raises it to his lips to take a swig. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam doing the same before putting the bottle down on the table between them.

Steve keeps his in his hands, just to have something in them.

“I'm sure everyone asks you this,” Sam says after a minute, “but, you ever miss the good old days?”

Steve wants to laughs because the _good old days_ were never good, they never existed. Not for a lot of people and Steve was one of those people that those days were anything but good to.

“Well,” he says instead. “Things aren't so bad. Food's a lot better, we used to boil everything. No polio's good. Internet, so helpful. Been reading that a lot trying to catch up, including reading about this one prince.”

Sam raises a brow, his smile growing.

“You might know him,” Steve continues. “Kinda tall, handsome.”

“Oh, you read up on me, did you?” Sam asks.

Steve shrugs and says, “It seems only fair when you did the same.”

“I didn't have much of a choice,” Sam says, “but fair enough.”

Steve smiles at him, and Sam smiles back. A silence stretches between them for one, two, three seconds and then Steve stops counting and lets himself look at Sam, focus on him instead of the time passing by.

In the back of his mind, a voice reminds him that Sam is here for business, not for anything else.

Sam leans forward in his seat and taps his pointy finger against Steve's knee to get his attention, then he points at him with the same finger.

“Marvin Gaye,” he says. “1972, _Trouble Man_ soundtrack. Everything you missed jammed into one album.”

Steve raises his brows curiously but doesn't hesitate to shift and raise his hip a little so he can pull his bend notebook out of his back pocket. The pen stuck into the strap keeping it closed is sharpened down to the size of a nail at this point and it looks ridiculous between his fingers, not that he cares.

“I'll put it on the list,” he tells Sam with a smile and writes it down.

Sam is looking at him curiously when Steve looks back up, a smile on his lips and a question in his eyes. Steve raises a brow in a silent _what_ which makes Sam's smile grow a little wider.

“You got a lot on that list?” Sam asks. It doesn't sound teasing, only curious.

“Well,” Steve says and shrugs, closing the notebook. “I have a lot to catch up on.”

Sam hums and nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, eyes lingering on the notebook now on the table, but he doesn't and instead stays silent.

“So,” Steve says, moving on. “Wanna talk charity, now?”

“Yeah, let's,” Sam says. “I actually have an idea for a name.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Let's hear it.”

“The Riley Fund.”

Steve stares at him, but Sam isn't looking back anymore. Sam has lowered his gaze to where his hands are folded together in his lap, fingers fidgeting ever so slightly. There's a small furrow between his brows, the corners of his lips tugging down, and his shoulders have sagged significantly.

“Who's Riley?” Steve asks, voice soft.

“My best friend.”

When Sam doesn't elaborate, Steve asks, “What happened to him?”

“He died,” Sam says after a pause.

“I'm sorry,” Steve says with a frown.

Sam takes in a deep breath and says, “Great guy, terrible sense of humor but still always made me laugh anyway. He stuck with me through a lot and when he was old enough, he joined the Air Force. Pararescue. Every single day he spend over there, I was over here worrying my ass off.”

Steve nods and hums quietly, letting him know he's listening.

“I visited his base a few times,” Sam says. “I'm a prince, it's my duty to visit military bases every once in a while. He looked fine, for the first year or so. Then I started to notice the changes. It was taking a toll on him, being in the military. And then... well, they tell me he was shot down.”

“Shit,” Steve breathes out before he can stop himself.

“I know,” Sam says with a small huff. “It's been years since then but it still hurts. I'm still grieving because... well, when you're in a position like me, you're not really allowed to properly grieve. You're expected to stay strong and...”

“And be perfect,” Steve says when Sam trails off. “To keep being you even when your world was just pulled out from under your feet.”

Sam lifts his gaze and looks at him, eyes locking. Steve lets a smile form on his lips, small and not quite reaching his eyes. Sam returns it along with an understanding nod.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Exactly like that.”

“Yeah,” Steve echoes. “I know what that's like.”

“Of course,” Sam says. “Bucky, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“Me too.”

They share a smile, small and grieving. A silence falls over them but Steve doesn't let it last for very long, doesn't let the somber mood settle over them. He sits up a little straighter, puts on a brighter smile, and breaks the silence.

“Okay,” he says. “Let's call it the Riley Fund.”

Sam sits up as well and says, “Just as a start, we can come up with something better later.”

“Right, of course.”

Sam smiles at him, and Steve smiles back.

 

♕ ♕ ♕

 

They start spending a lot of time together, him and Sam. Any time between missions and various other things where his presence is required, he spends with Sam. Occasionally he gets a day or two to himself because Sam has other obligations as well and isn't always available, but then they text and call and Steve learns how to use Skype.

Weeks and months pass by. _The Riley Fund_ becomes _Riley Outreach_ which eventually becomes _Redwing Outreach_ , named after Riley's call sign in the military. A study room in the Wilson mansion becomes the unofficial office for their charity but, truthfully, they don't spend much time there. Steve's living room is where they do, however.

They grow close over these months, close enough that Steve would say they're friends. But he knows he wants them to be more than that. It's during these months that Steve realizes that, realizes how much he likes Sam. He likes him to the point where he wouldn't even call it a crush but rather something bigger, stronger.

Steve realizes it one night when they're sitting a little too close while looking over some paperwork and he finds himself staring at Sam's lips, fingers, face, eyes, lips again. It's when he feels the urge to lean and kiss him that it hits him like a ton of bricks, and he ends up shifting back a little, face flaming.

When Sam gives him a questioning look and asks if he's okay, Steve just waves it off and tells him that the serum occasionally gives him hot flashes and that he's having one at the moment. Sam doesn't look like he believes him but he says nothing and Steve counts that as a blessing.

Steve likes to believe that he's doing a pretty good job at hiding his feelings. After all, Sam hasn't brought it up and he seems completely oblivious to the effect he has on Steve. But, as it turns out, not everyone is convinced of Steve's act.

“You're getting pretty friendly with the prince, I see,” Natasha says one day while they're walking through the garage of the Triskelion, heading toward the elevators.

“We're friends,” Steve says. “That happens when you spend so much time together.”

“Uh huh,” Natasha says. “So the heart eyes you're giving him is, what? My imagination?”

“You're getting pretty friendly with Barton,” Steve says and shoots her a look. “You wanna talk about that, too?”

Natasha pauses for a second, then says, “Fair enough.”

Steve nods, a firm end to the conversation. However, when they reach the elevators and Natasha presses a button, a question pops up in his head and he only hesitates for a second before asking it out loud.

“How do you know about the, uh,” he swallows, “the hypothetical heart eyes, anyway?”

“Paparazzi,” Natasha says. “You're both big names. When big names hang out, the press starts buzzing.”

Steve flushes. Realistically, he knows that there have been people taking pictures of them almost every time they've ventured outside together, both civilians with cellphones and paparazzi with expensive cameras. He knows this, but he didn't think his growing feelings for Sam would be so obvious that Natasha figured it out so easily.

Then again, he probably shouldn't be surprised that she did. He just hopes that she is the only one who has managed to figure it out. He wants to dive into the internet and check for himself but he's scared of what he might find.

The elevator doors ding open after a moment and they step in. It's empty, unsurprisingly.

“By the way,” Natasha says and turns to him with a smug look on her face. “Don't think I didn't notice the post it note on the back wall.”

Steve sighs. “Damn it,” he swears under his breath.

“Nice drawing,” she says. “What was it, a chicken?”

“A cock,” Steve says flatly.

“Nice.”

Another point for Natasha. She's winning their spot the difference game, again.

Steve presses the button to their floor, the doors closing with a sharp _ding_. They ride up no more than two stories before Natasha speaks again.

“So, are you gonna go for it?” she asks.

Steve sighs heavily. “I thought we weren't talking about this.”

“I never said that,” she says.

“Well, I don't want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Steve starts, then stops again.

Natasha raises a brow at him in a silent question.

“Because I don't want to,” he finishes.

“But you don't deny that you like him.”

Steve hesitates. “He's a good man.”

“He is,” Natasha agrees. “Kissable, too.”

Steve gives her a flat look.

Natasha returns it with a smile and says, “Don't pretend like you don't think the same.”

“So what if I do?” Steve asks and looks ahead. “I'm not sure the world is ready for a gay Captain America, anyway.”

“Are you?”

“What, ready for a gay Captain America? I've always been.”

“No, ready to come out.”

Steve shifts, hesitating for a second. “Not, ah,” he says. “Not as gay.”

Beside him, Natasha is silent. She looks at him but says nothing.

“I'm bisexual,” Steve says. Saying it out loud is a rush, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Cool,” Natasha says. “Are you ready to come out?”

“Maybe,” Steve says. “I don't know.”

“But you like Sam.”

Steve pauses, then sighs and decides to admit it. “I do.”

“And he makes you happy.”

Steve smiles a little and says, “Yeah.”

“Then go for it,” Natasha says with a shrug, like it's as easy as pie.

“It's not that simple,” Steve says.

“It's not that complicated either,” Natasha says. “Two men being together, it's not as bad as it used to be.”

“I know.”

“Then go for it. You already know he likes men, he came out as bi years ago.”

Steve sighs and scratches the back of his head. “I'll think about it,” he says.

“Good,” she says and steps closer, wrapping her arms around his middle in a hug. “You're gonna be fine, Rogers.”

Steve wraps one of his arms around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze, returning the hug. The hug doesn't last for more than a couple of seconds before they look at each other, smile, and step apart again.

“So,” Steve says after a pause. “About you and Barton...”

Natasha gives him a warning look, her eyes narrowed into slits. Steve grins at her but he doesn't get to say anything else because then the elevator doors open and the conversation comes to an abrupt end when Natasha exits in a rushed pace.

With a chuckle, Steve follows her.

 

♕ ♕ ♕

 

Steve does think about it, as he promised. The answer is painfully obvious though, so obvious that he doesn't even make a conscious decision about what he wants to do before he finds himself on his motorcycle one night, heading toward the mansion with an urge to see Sam tugging at his heartstrings.

He doesn't know how long the drive is, nor does he care much. He doesn't pay attention to the time, only to the road ahead of him and the feeling of need and longing in his chest. All he knows is that the sun is bright and high on the sky when he drives off from his apartment and it's starting to set when he parks by the mansion.

It's winter and he makes a detour to buy an extra motorcycle helmet on his way, so it could have taken anything from one hour to several.

Not that it matters.

He's stalling, sitting on the parked motorcycle and eyeing the mansion entrance to his left. The lights are on, a clear sign that the place hasn't quieted down for the night yet.

It takes him another couple of minutes before he takes in a deep breath, dismounts his motorcycle, and heads toward the front doors. Gerald, who has grown a beard and shaved his head over the months, answers with a smile and an excited _Captain Rogers!_ as he welcomes him into the warmth.

Gerald lets Steve put the helmets and his jacket away before he leads him up the stairs and through the hall toward Sam's room, a steady stream of conversation between the two of them that echoes in the wide space around them. Steve still thinks it's a little overwhelming, this place, even after having spend countless hours here now. He's getting used to it, though.

As they venture down the hall, they pass by the princess and Sam's sister who is heading in the opposite direction, a phone pressed to her ear. Her name is Sarah and she smiles at Steve when they pass by each other. Steve smiles back, nodding and mouthing a silent greeting that she responds to with a wider smile.

Steve hasn't spend much time with Sam's siblings, nor has he spend much time with his parents. He has met them a few times, the king and queen more than the princess and prince. They're all busy people but good people, nice people that welcomed Steve with kind smiles and firm handshakes but very quickly let him see them act like a real, honest family with snark and problems.

Steve likes them and he's overjoyed that they seem to like him too. It feels like a silent approval in a way, which probably wouldn't be such a big deal to him had it not been for the fact that he has feelings for Sam.

Steve has never cared for the royal family until now. And it's not because they're royal, not even because of how much and in what way he likes Sam. They're just good people, simple as that.

When they make it to Sam's room, Gerald leaves him. Steve waits a good handful of seconds after Gerald has disappeared out of view before he takes in a breath, straightens up a little, and lifts a fist to knock on the door.

A few seconds pass before the door opens, then Sam comes into view and Steve forgets how to breathe and function for a second.

In the months of meetings and meetings turned into casual, friendly hang outs, Sam has always looked so well put together, well dressed, everything. Now, though...

It's not that he doesn't look well put together, because he does. It's that he's wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt that looks a size or two too big, the sleeves covering his hands. He looks completely relaxed, a little sleepy maybe, and Steve wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with him, kiss his cheeks and forehead, and hold him for hours.

Sam looks good, and Steve's heart does a somersault in his chest.

“Steve,” Sam says, surprise in his eyes and a smile on his lips. “Hey. Did we have a meeting today?”

“Uh, no,” Steve says. “No, I just, ah. I wanted to stop by, say hi.”

Sam's smile widens, the gap between his front teeth peeking out, adorable as always.

“So,” Steve continues and raises a hand with a bashful smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Sam echoes with a chuckle, then steps aside and gestures behind him. “Come on in, dork.”

With a roll of his eyes and a smile on his lips, Steve steps inside. It's only when the door closes behind him that he realizes he has never actually seen Sam's room before, despite being in the mansion so often. It's not what he expected but, well, he's not sure what he expected anyway.

It's a spacious room but not overly tidy or neat like so many other rooms here. There's a pile of clothes on the floor next to what Steve assumes is the hamper and there's a couple of framed posters of birds hung up on the walls. The room doesn't scream prince or royalty, it screams _Sam_.

Steve loves it, instantly.

“Make yourself at home,” Sam says and steps around where Steve is standing still in the middle of the room.

Steve smiles at him, but it doesn't last long. It fades and falls into a frown when Sam walks straight over to the bed and sits down with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes while his shoulders slump.

Cautiously, Steve walks over toward him.

“You okay?” he asks after a minute.

Sam sits still for a moment, face hidden by the palm of his hand. But then he lifts his head and drops his hand, eyes meeting Steve's and a smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and it looks a little too forced for Steve's liking.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Just tired, 's all.”

Steve doesn't believe him for a second. He sits down next to him, leaving an appropriate amount of space between them, and turns to him with a look that's partially deadpan and partially pleading.

“Sam,” he says. “Don't bullshit me.”

“It's,” Sam starts but cuts himself off with a shake of his head.

Steve waits patiently and silently.

“I'm so tired,” Sam says after a minute. He sounds almost frustrated. “I'm tired of having to be this, this perfect human being who isn't allowed to do anything wrong and is supposed to do what he's told to do. Put on a smile and wave, Samuel, this is your life. Yeah, well, I didn't ask to be born a prince and be forced to do all these stupid things.”

Steve turns bodily toward him, a frown on his lips.

“Don't get me wrong,” Sam continues. “I know I come from a privileged place. Well, as privileged as a black, bisexual prince in America can get. We're royalty but America is still America. And I just. I don't know, sometimes I wish I was...”

“Normal,” Steve finishes when Sam trails off.

“Yeah,” Sam says and sighs. “I try to use my privilege for good by helping people who need an extra hand, like with Redwing Outreach. But, I don't know, I feel disconnected from the people. Sometimes I wish I could be a normal guy or, hell, even a damn Avenger so I could physically be there for people in trouble.”

Steve huffs and says, “Being an Avenger isn't all that glamorous.”

“I'm not saying it is,” Sam says. “But you get to fight and save people's lives, _be there_.”

“Sam,” Steve says softly. “Redwing Outreach is gonna save people's lives too.”

“I know,” Sam says. “But it's not the same.”

Steve blinks, then asks, “Are you saying you wanna fight?”

“Kind of?” Sam looks at him, a half smile on his lips. “I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I could physically see the bad guy and be able to fight them face to face. Not that helping the fight with mental illnesses isn't just as important, but it'd be pretty nice to fight the physical bad once in a while too.”

“Sounds like you need to punch something,” Steve says.

“Man, I would love to,” Sam says and throws himself across the bed with a sigh.

Steve looks at him, a small smile on his lips. Sam isn't looking back a him but is instead staring up at the ceiling above them, so Steve lets himself look, lets his eyes wander down the length of his body. He pauses briefly to stare at where Sam's shirt has ridden up a little, revealing a sliver of skin.

Steve's cheeks flush slightly, his fingers itching to reach out and touch. He quickly tears his eyes away when he hears Sam speak again, not wanting to get caught staring inappropriately.

“Sometimes,” Sam is saying. “Sometimes I wish I had wings. Like a bird. Birds can just fly away to wherever they want, not a care in the world. I envy that.”

Steve pauses, eyes resting on Sam's face. He thinks for a moment but it doesn't take longer than that before an idea pops into his head. Instantly, he knows what to do.

“I've got an idea,” he says and hops off the bed. “It's a little bit crazy but... I think you'll like it.”

Sam sits up, gives him a look of narrowed eyes, and asks, “Is it illegal?”

Steve blinks, then makes a face and smiles sheepishly.

“You know what?” Sam says, standing with a chuckle. “I don't care.”

Steve smiles toothily at him and says, “You might want to change.”

“Oh, we're going somewhere?” Sam asks but he moves over toward his closet immediately.

“Yep,” Steve says. “Wear something warm, it's gonna get cold.”

Sam gives him a look over his shoulder and says, “It's winter.”

“We're taking my motorcycle.”

“Ah,” Sam says and smiles. “Something extra warm, then.”

After Sam gets dressed into something appropriate and warm, Steve reaches out and grabs his hand. He doesn't give himself a second to overthink the move nor does he give Sam a second to mention it or protest, dragging Sam with him out of the room and down the hall toward the foyer the moment he has a hold on him.

Sam follows with a chuckle and grabs his hand back, squeezing. Steve's cheeks heat up rapidly.

They make it to the stairs leading down when Sam suddenly tightens his grip on Steve's hand and Steve finds himself becoming the one being dragged instead. He doesn't hesitate to follow, doesn't ask a question after Sam looks at him over his shoulder and gives him a smile.

Sam drags him into the study where the queen, Darlene, is sitting and talking with someone that Steve recognizes as a bodyguard. The conversation, however, comes to an abrupt stop when the two of them step into the room and Darlene looks toward them with a questioning brow raise.

“Hey, mom,” Sam says. “I'm being kidnapped by Captain America for a bit. I'll be back later.”

Darlene looks them over, her eyes traveling down to where their hands are still locked together. Steve tries not to blush when her gaze stays there for a couple long seconds. He fails.

Darlene smiles at them when she looks back up. It looks almost knowing.

“I trust you to keep my son safe, captain Rogers,” she says.

Steve nods and says, “With my life, ma'am.”

Darlene's smile grows a little wider but she doesn't get to say anything else because then Sam drags Steve back out of the study and out of the mansion. Steve follows him willingly, a smile on his lips and a happy flutter in his heart.

Neither of them let go of the other's hand.

Helmets and jackets on, they get on the motorcycle. Sam is a warm and solid presence behind Steve, hands holding onto his hips like Steve instructs him to do, the grip tight and firm. But Sam doesn't keep them there for long.

Steve feels them slowly slide up and around him as they drive down the road. It's not long before he has two strong arms wrapped around his middle and Sam's chest pressed against his back. His heart does somersault after somersault after somersault in his chest, face hot. Silently, he prays that Sam notices none of it.

When they make it to Steve's building, the sky above them is pitch black but the city around them is bright and still awake. Steve parks and lets Sam get off, which he does with a hand firmly on Steve's shoulder. Steve doesn't follow him off, only watches as Sam pulls his helmet off and turns to him with a happy smile.

The smile, however, quickly turns into a frown and the frown turns into a look of realization.

“You're leaving me here,” Sam says.

“Give me an hour,” Steve says and smiles at him. “Two, tops. Meet me on the roof, okay?”

Sam looks at him, confused. “Uh, okay,” he says slowly.

Steve revs the engine, gives him a thumbs up, and then drives off to the sound of Sam's chuckling which, in return, makes him smile too.

 

♕ ♕ ♕

 

Stark needs better security, Steve concludes as he rummages through all the gadgets stored away in the basement of the tower. Or, at the very least, a security system that isn't JARVIS who lets Steve do things like break into the lab if he just asks nicely.

It takes him a while but eventually he finds what he's looking for; a box with the label EXO-07. Natasha told him about it a while back, this gadget. Apparently it's a prototype that the National Guard created and somehow Stark got his hands on it to both improve and study it but he moved on quickly after finishing and kept it stored away instead.

Steve grabs the box and leaves, thanking JARVIS on his way out. He is under no impression that Stark won't somehow find out that he technically stole from him but honestly? He doesn't care. He would bet his left foot that it's gonna take Stark ages to figure it out and by then, it won't be an issue anyway.

Steve makes it back to his building as fast as he can. In total, he's gone for barely two hours. Not wanting to make Sam wait any longer, he takes two steps at a time up through the building until he makes it to the roof, the box in his arms and a smile on his lips.

The smile grows wider and softer when he spots Sam. Sam is standing by the edge, hands in the pockets of his jacket and head tilted back a little, eyes on the dark and starry sky above them.

Steve itches to draw him.

He swallows that urge and heads over toward him, shifting the box in his arms. Sam doesn't seem to notice him, apparently lost in thought, and that makes Steve's smile turn into a small grin.

“On your left,” he says a step away from him.

To his credit, Sam doesn't jump. He startles a little and whips his head to the side, eyes the smallest bit wider when they land on Steve. The shocked expression quickly fades when he rolls his eyes and huffs, a smile forming on his lips. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, words stuck on his tongue when his eyes fall down onto the box in Steve's arms.

Steve puts it down on the ledge and turns back to him, a hand on the lid and a smile on his lips.

“Did you steal that?” Sam asks and gives him a look.

Steve shrugs and says, “Maybe.”

“Damn,” Sam says with a chuckle. “I didn't know Captain America was such a bad boy.”

“Clearly you don't know me well enough, yet.”

Sam hums. “Guess we gotta change that.”

“Guess so,” Steve says with a smile.

“So,” Sam says. “Not to pull a David Mills but, uh. What's in the box?”

Steve blinks at him. “I don't know who that is.”

“We're gonna fix that but come on, Steve. You're killing me here.”

With a smile on his lips, Steve pulls the lid off the box and puts it aside. He reaches down and grabs onto the jetpack by the straps, pulling it out.

“This,” Steve says, “is your chance to fly.”

His eyes go to Sam and he watches as Sam takes a curious step closer, eyes wandering over the jetpack and taking it in. Sam looks from the jetpack to Steve a couple of times, then his attention stays on the jetpack and he reaches out to touch it carefully with the tips of his fingers.

“I read about these,” he says. “Riley tested them once or twice, said they were crazy but the best thing he'd ever flown in. Well, flown _with_. I've always been jealous of that.”

“Well, now you get to try them yourself,” Steve says.

Sam pauses, looking at him. “You're not serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“You want me,” Sam says and points to himself, “to wear that? Is it even safe?”

“A hundred percent. I wouldn't give it to you if it wasn't.”

“Okay.” Sam pauses. “Off the top of my head, I can already see a problem.”

“And what's that?”

“I have no idea how to fly.”

Steve gives him a look and says, “You can't tell me that you never flew in the one Riley tested.”

Sam huffs and says, “You're not supposed to know that.”

“I didn't until you confirmed it just now,” Steve says and smiles.

“Smartass,” Sam mutters.

Steve smiles and holds the jetpack up. “Wanna go for a ride?” he asks.

Sam looks at it. He doesn't say anything but the determined look that crosses his face before he nods in answer says it all. He turns around and Steve helps him slip the jetpack on, making sure it sits securely but comfortably on his back and shoulders.

He scoops up the goggles from the bottom of the box before he walks around to Sam's front where he secures the straps over his chest and very pointedly does not think about how close they're standing or how firm Sam's chest is under his fingers. His blushing cheeks betray him, however.

Steve hands Sam the goggles and lets him put them on himself, but Steve doesn't move back. Sam doesn't break their eye contact either, eyes staying locked while Sam's eyes get covered by red tinted glass. There's a tension between them that only gets more tense when Steve drops his eyes to Sam's lips.

He could kiss him, right here and now.

“Ready for the best part?” he asks instead, voice a little rough.

“Yeah,” Sam says. He sounds a little breathless, too.

Steve forces his eyes away from Sam's and raises his hand, hovering his index finger over a button on the jetpack. He waits a beat, then presses it and smiles as the wings extend to each side of Sam, coming out with a smooth, mechanic _click_.

Sam looks at them with wide eyes for a moment before he lets out a surprised laugh and turns back to him with a bright and wide smile that makes Steve's heart do funny things in his chest.

Steve resists the urge to kiss him. Instead he pats him on the shoulder and takes a step back.

“Fly away,” he says and smiles. “Bird prince.”

Sam rolls his eyes and gives him a look, but there's a smile on his lips that ruins the seriousness of it. He steps back a few paces, shaking his head and keeping his eyes locked onto Steve who is still smiling at him. He spreads his arms, takes in a deep breath through his nose, and bends down in his knees before he takes off.

Steve steps over to the ledge of the roof and rests his arms there, smiling as he watches Sam soar through the sky.

Sam is a bit clumsy at first, but eventually he gets the hang of it. He doesn't just fly through the air, he _glides_. He does it with such an ease that it seems almost natural, although Steve knows that it's as much natural as it is practiced. It's obvious that this isn't the first time Sam has flown in a jetpack, and it makes Steve smiles.

From the ground, Steve can hear the bright laughter and exclaims that come from Sam whenever he flies over his head. It makes Steve laugh too, smiling so wide that his cheeks start hurting after a while.

Sam flies for something close to half an hour before he comes heading back toward the rooftop. His landing is a little messy and he stumbles forward after the wings retract into the jetpack. Steve is there in an instant, hands on his arms to keep him steady.

“That was,” Sam says with a breathless laugh. “Wow, I forgot how incredible that is.”

Steve smiles at him and says, “I'm glad you liked it.”

“Liked it?” Sam huffs at him, his hands squeezing where they're holding onto Steve's shoulders. “Steve. You just reminded me how much I've missed the freeing feeling of flying. I didn't just like it, I _loved_ it.”

Steve stares at him. Sam is looking at him with a meaningful look but Steve isn't sure what he's trying to say with it.

“Well,” Steve says and swallows. “You should keep it.”

Sam narrows his eyes and asks, “Is it yours to give?”

“No,” Steve says. “Keep it anyway.”

“You're gonna get me in trouble, Cap.”

Steve shrugs. “Probably,” he says.

Sam hums, a smile on his lips. Even though they're so close already, he takes a step closer and closer. Steve holds his breath, his heart hammering away in his chest while his face heats up when he notices that Sam is looking at his lips.

“I think I'll take my chances,” Sam says, then kisses him.

Steve's eyes widen with surprise at the feeling of Sam's lips pressed against his own. The kiss is soft but firm, and for a second Steve thinks he might be dreaming. But then one of Sam's hands move to his cheek and the touch and warmth of his palm is so real that suddenly he doesn't care if it is a dream or not.

If it is, he hopes he never wakes up.

Heart pounding in his chest, Steve closes his eyes and moves to return the kiss. Only, right as he does, Sam pulls back and breaks the kiss. Steve blinks at him, confused and disappointed.

“Sorry,” Sam says, a blush painting his cheeks. “I read that wrong, didn't I?”

“No,” Steve says, maybe a little too quick and loud. “No, you definitely did not read that wrong.”

“But...?” Sam asks, prompting.

“But,” Steve repeats and swallows. “You, ah. You don't owe me or anything.”

“I'm well aware of that,” Sam says with a deadpan look. “I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“Wanted to?” Steve asks.

Sam steps closer, grabs onto him, and says, “ _Want_ to.”

Steve swallows thickly and drops his gaze to Sam's lips. He lets his hands slide down along Sam's arms, down until he finds his hips where he grabs on. Sam licks his lips and Steve mirrors the action, before he drags his eyes up to meet Sam's.

The tension between them is electric with want and intent.

“Do it again,” Steve says, voice lowered and husky.

Sam leans in and does. This time, Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, pouring everything he feels for Sam into it. They both smile into the kiss but neither of them lean back, both of them staying in each other's space and exchanging kiss after kiss after kiss.

Neither of them say it but the words ring clear with every brush of their lips.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you_ ––

 

♕ ♕ ♕

 

They don't go on a date. Not because they don't want to, because they do want to, but because neither of them are able to find the time for it. They talk about it a lot, both in the middle of _Redwing Outreach_ meetings and over text when they're both too busy to meet up, sharing date ideas and things they would like to do together. None of it ever gets further than talked about, though.

Mostly, it is actually because they're both busy men with busy lives and finding time between that and building their charity isn't easy. But also, it's because Steve is hesitant and scared too.

Steve isn't out yet, only to a few select people. He talks to Pepper about it one day, talks to her about potentially coming out publicly so it won't be such a shock if he ends up being seen being more than friendly with Sam in public, because it could very well happen.

But nothing comes out of it because he tells her _never mind_ and leaves in a rush.

He wants this; him and Sam, and what they have together. He wants it to himself, for just a little while longer.

It doesn't take long before Steve realizes how little he cares, though. He doesn't care who knows that he's not straight, doesn't care who knows that he's with Sam, doesn't care who knows that he's in love with a man and he's happier than he can ever remember being. He has spend way too long being afraid and having to hide this part of him and now he's finally in a time where it's okay.

He doesn't care if some paparazzi or whatever outs him and them to the public before he can come out himself. If someone sees them holding hands or kissing in the streets, well... he doesn't care. Life is too short not to enjoy the little things, like openly loving his boyfriend.

Sam kisses him when he tells him this in something similar to a rant. Sam tells him that he doesn't have to wait for someone to out him, tells him that he can come out on his own terms. And Steve kisses him and says he doesn't care. He can deal with the outcome after but he's done hiding.

That's where they're at a month into their relationship; not hiding but not public either. Not yet.

 

♕ ♕ ♕

 

Steve presses a soft kiss behind Sam's ear while he rubs firm circles against his shoulder blades, humming when Sam groans at the pressure. They're on the bed in Sam's room; Steve leaning against the headboard while Sam is sitting between his spread legs, his head lolled forward and body getting more and more relaxed as Steve massages his back.

Sam lets out a satisfied sigh when Steve's hands travel downward with firm rubs, and Steve smiles.

“Good?” he asks.

“Good,” Sam echoes. “If you ever wanna give up that shield, I think I know what you could do.”

“Oh yeah?”

Sam hums and says, “Masseuse.”

Chuckling, Steve grabs onto Sam's bicep and pulls him back against his chest. He kisses the side of his head and wraps his arms around him, smiling when Sam tilts his head to the side and looks at him.

“You just want me to be your personal masseuse,” Steve says. “Don't you?”

“Hate to break it to you,” Sam says and leans in to kiss him, “but you already are.”

Steve quirks a brow. “I didn't get that memo.”

“You're my boyfriend,” Sam says and twist around, settling down in Steve's lap with a leg on either side of him. “That's part of the deal.”

Steve hums noncommittally and lets his hands travel up along Sam's thighs until they find his ass where he lets them rest. A smile pulls at his lips when Sam rests his hands on the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the hair there. There's a soft look on Sam's face and that's all it takes for Steve to pull him down into a kiss.

Steve feels so light here with him; free, happy, alive. With Sam, he doesn't have to be anyone but himself. He doesn't have to be Captain America or the skewed version of Steve Rogers that the world has decided he is. He doesn't have to pretend, neither of them do. They can just be.

The kiss doesn't get the chance to turn into something heated, despite Steve trying his best to get there, because it's not long before Sam breaks it when he leans back with a groan and drops his head onto Steve's shoulder.

“I have a meeting with Danvers tomorrow,” he says and sighs heavily.

“I thought you liked her,” Steve says, wrapping his arms around Sam.

“I do,” Sam says, shifting to make himself comfortable. “But a meeting with her means having to leave this bed with you, and I don't want that.”

Steve smiles into Sam's hair, heart fluttering happily at those words. He kisses the top of his head and holds him a little closer, a little tighter, as if to silently say that he doesn't want to leave this bed with Sam either. He means to say it out loud but the words don't make it out before Sam continues.

“Do you ever wish,” Sam asks, “that you could just run away?”

“This about your bird fantasy again?” Steve asks.

Sam elbows him and says, “Don't make it sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what, don't be an ass.”

“I have no idea what you mean, Sam.”

“You can't play the innocent card with me, I know you too well.”

Steve snorts and kisses Sam's forehead.

“Fine,” he says. “To answer your question, yes. Sometimes I do wish I could run away.”

“Where would you go?”

“Europe. I'd like to see it while there's not a war going on. What about you?”

“Probably Europe, too.”

Steve hums and says, “We could go together.”

“We should,” Sam says, pressing a kiss to Steve's neck.

“Where would we go first?” Steve asks and pulls Sam closer.

“I don't know,” Sam says. “How does France sound?”

“Yeah?” Steve leans back a little, smiles down at him. “You wanna go to Paris, maybe?”

“Well,” Sam says with a shrug. “I was actually thinking we could go to this hiking trail. Tour of Mont Blanc, I think it's called. It passes through a couple countries. But sure, Paris sounds nice.”

“Nah,” Steve says and kisses him with a smile. “I like the sound of hiking better.”

Sam squints at him. “Do you really or are you just saying that?”

Steve gives him a flat look and asks, “Do I look like someone who'd do something he doesn't want to?”

“A little bit, actually,” Sam says. “But I know you and I know the answer is no.”

“Exactly,” Steve says. “So you know I'm not just saying that.”

“Okay,” Sam says and smiles at him. “So... hiking, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “We could leave first thing in the morning. I'm sure SHIELD won't miss a quinjet.”

“Are you seriously gonna steal a quinjet for a romantic hiking trip?”

Steve shrugs. “Sure.”

“You do realize I can get us a plane, right?” Sam asks. “Legally. I'm a prince, I can do that.”

“Yeah, but where's the fun in that?”

Sam laughs and shakes his head, his hands moving to cup Steve's face. Steve smiles at him, grabbing his wrist and caressing the soft skin there with his thumb. The smile that falls onto Sam's lips when his laughter fades into a chuckle and eventually stops is soft and warm.

Steve loves him.

He opens his mouth to say exactly that, only to get interrupted and cut off when his phone buzzes loudly on the bedside table. Their smiles fade simultaneously; Sam looks disappointed while Steve knows he himself looks closer to annoyed. They both know what that buzzing means.

Sighing, Steve reaches over and grabs the phone. There's a missed call from SHIELD and a text from Natasha. In the text, she tells him that they're being send on a mission and that she'll come pick him up, ETA in fifteen.

Steve doesn't show it to Sam and the look on Sam's face tells him that he doesn't need to either. Sam already knows.

“We just had to care, huh?” Sam says, a smile on his lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Steve looks at him in silence for a moment. Then, without taking his eyes off of him, he tosses the phone toward the foot of the bed and leans forward to kiss Sam. Sam kisses him back, grabbing onto him. The kiss is firm and deep, both of them holding onto each other.

“Ask me to run away,” Steve whispers when they part, foreheads touching. “Ask me to run away and I will.”

“Don't tempt me,” Sam says and kisses him again. “Go save the world, Cap.”

Steve leaves with a lingering kiss from Sam, then he puts himself in Captain America mode and ignores Natasha's teasing grin when she picks him up out front. He does, however, blush profusely but he ignores it.

 

♕ ♕ ♕

 

A picture of the two of them walking hand in hand goes viral on a day where Steve is stuck on bed rest while he heals from the injuries that his last mission gave him and Sam is in another country doing his princely duties.

Steve sees it quickly. It's hard not to, both because he's on bed rest and has been doing nothing but cross movies and television shows off his list in between clicking around on the internet and because #PrinceAmerica is trending worldwide within minutes of the picture being posted.

Steve scrolls through several news accounts posting about it and a few other people before he decides to answer their question of whether or not him and Sam are dating. The picture is out, he might as well come out too. It's time, he can feel it.

 **Steve Rogers** | @SteveRogers  
   Yes, Sam and I are dating. It's new. Please respect that. #PrinceAmerica #bipride

The tweet gets numerous likes and retweets within seconds, a few negative comments but more positive. Steve smiles at the screen of his phone, his heart warming as more and more come in. It feels thrilling to admit something like this out loud and publicly, to tell the whole world that he's dating Sam.

He stares at it for a few more minutes, before he puts his phone down and manages to get himself to the bathroom to take a piss with a manageable amount of pain shooting through his sore body. When he returns to bed and flops down with a groan, his phone starts buzzing next to him.

Sam's name and the picture attached to it light up the screen, blinking at him as it buzzes. Steve smiles softly at the sight and doesn't hesitate to press accept call, making himself comfortable against the pillows on his bed.

“Hey,” he greets him.

“Hey,” Sam echoes in his ear, smile audible. “Saw the tweet. The secret's out, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, smiling. The smile disappears quickly, though. “You're okay with that, right?”

“Oh, I am very okay with that,” Sam says, chuckling. “Are you?”

Steve pauses. He stares up at the ceiling, smile returning to his lips.

“Yeah,” he says. “Never been happier.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/171969890663).


End file.
